And a Happy New Year
by Corinne Marie
Summary: A compilation of Christmas stories to keep the spirit going a little longer. The pairing in the first chapter George/Angelina. I'm fairly certain the second pairing will be Lucius/Narcissa.


**A/N: I'm finally back! I know it's been awhile, for anyone out there who was keeping up with my work before november. Also, for anyone waiting for more of "A New Beginning" or "Learning Love", I really am working on it. But what with NaNoWriMo and holidays and stuff, I haven't had much time for much else. So, just wait a little longer, I guess is what I'm saying.**

**This is the first chapter of my Christmas Compilation. It's a one shot of George and Angelina, the year of Voldemort's defeat. **

**And if you're wondering why I haven't started this until now, I have no answer for you besides the fact that I don't want Christmas to end. And I'll be writing these as long as the Christmas spirit stays with me. I hope you enjoy them, even as they start popping up in January.**

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"_Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful." –Norman Vincent Peale_

Angelina sat in front of the fireplace in her mother's house, a blanket around her shoulders. She hadn't touched the cup of hot chocolate her father had brought her nearly an hour ago, and her muscles were starting to hurt from a lack of movement. She was used to that by now, though. She hadn't left this house, not even to go for a walk, not even to go flying, since he had died.

237 days. It had been 237 days since the battle of Hogwarts. She'd been keeping track, as if she were in prison. And in a way, she supposed she was. She'd made a prison for herself amongst things that reminded her of him, and as of yet, no one had been able to break her out of it.

Not that they hadn't tried. Alicia and Katie made it a point to come and see her at least once a week, chattering on about how their lives were going, who they'd seen from school recently and the like. She didn't need to say much. Didn't need to listen much either, just nod and say yes or no at appropriate times. They tried not to make her speak if she didn't want to, but she knew it was killing them that she was so depressed. She was almost ready to tell them to stop coming to see her, just because she didn't want to put them through that.

Harry had come, too, at the end of June, with Ginny, but they hadn't stayed long, and they hadn't been back since. Ginny seemed to be sad for everyone, as if she was trying to take on all of their pain at once. Harry just seemed glad that not everyone had been lost. He seemed glad that he could still go and see people he'd once known.

There was a knock on the door, and she heard her mother rise from a chair in the kitchen to answer it. A tear fell from Angelina's eye, and she hoped that it wasn't someone coming to see her. She couldn't handle that right now.

"Angelina?" her mother said meekly from the doorway. "Angelina, someone's here to see you."

She didn't turn, but hoped her mother saw her nod. She just didn't want anyone to see the tears falling from her eyes right then.

Everything was quiet for a long moment after she heard her mother leave the room. And then she heard a voice that was as familiar to her as the crackling of the fire before her had become.

"He didn't mean to leave you, you know," said George quietly from where her mother had been just moments ago. "Just like he hadn't meant to leave me. We had big plans still." She felt his arm wrap around her shoulders and the tears fell faster from her eyes as she began to shake. "And I know it doesn't seem fair. But I'm not going to tell you that this isn't healthy. I spent almost a month doing nothing, and I mean nothing, except eating, and even that was because I knew my mum would make me do it whether I wanted to or not."

This earned a chuckle out of her, but it quickly turned back to tears. He was silent for another moment or two before speaking again. "Alicia told me about the two of you. I hadn't realized that you were planning to…I just mean…never mind, I don't know what I mean. I feel like I'm trying to congratulate you on an engagement that no longer exists. Oh, no, I just made it worse again." He stood and walked to the other side of the room, and she could tell he was pulling his own hair. It was a bad habit both of the twins had, on the few occasions they were really upset by something, not that it happened often.

She wanted desperately to stand and go to him, knowing this must be as hard for him as it was for her. But she couldn't. Months of forcing herself not to care about anyone else made it impossible for her to help him now.

She heard him turn around. "He really loved you, you know. I mean, I know that wherever he is, he still loves you, if that's possible from where he… I'm rubbish at this, obviously."

She chuckled again, and tried to wipe the tears from her eyes.

"What I'm trying to say is, I know it's no consolation, but from the moment he saw you he knew you were the one he wanted."

Somehow, she managed to turn to face him. "He said that?"

George nodded, surprised that she'd turned around, finally. "The very first time he saw you, he turned to me and said, 'Georgie, you see that girl over there? The tall, pretty one. No, not the blonde. THAT one,'" George was acting this out exactly as he would have done it. "'I'm gonna marry her someday, George. Don't laugh, I'm serious! Someday, I swear.'"

Angelina was giggling now, imagining that he was actually his brother.

He was smiling, too, and shaking his head slightly. "I would have given anything to have his confidence."

"You didn't need it," she said, her voice a little raspy from lack of use. "You were the other half, the less obnoxious side, but you could still make people laugh."

He shook his head. "Not like he could. Especially you. If I could make you laugh like he could…"

She sat in silence, waiting for him to finish. "What would happen if you could?"

He looked at the ground. "Never mind, I can't say it right now. It would be… inappropriate."

She laughed, almost a fake laugh this time. "One of the Weasley twins is worried about being inappropriate? You and F- ….You and your brother used to live to be inappropriate."

He didn't look up as he spoke. "If I could make you laugh like he could, maybe it would have been my ring on your finger, that's all."

She closed her eyes. She supposed she should have been expecting this. She wasn't sure how to handle it, not right now. So she tried to make a joke. "He didn't give me a ring."

He didn't even smile, but he did shake his head and look up. "Forget about it for now. You're still thinking about F- …him. And if nothing ever happens between us, I'll understand. I didn't come here tonight to tell you I want to replace my brother in your heart."

She nodded. "So there was a reason?"

"The other day, your mother saw me in Diagon Alley, and told me that she thought you should get out of the house. So…I would completely understand if you refused, but my mum wants you to come over for Christmas Eve tonight. We even have a few presents for you, but I can just drop them off tomorrow morning after we open ours if you want."

She turned back towards the fire and thought for a moment before she spoke. "I don't think I can be around a crowd of happy, cheerful people right now."

"When was the last time you left your mother's house?"

"I…haven't left since I got here. The day after … he died. It's been 237 days."

He didn't say anything for a long time. Finally, after what felt to her like an eternity, he said, "So let's go somewhere. It doesn't have to be back to the Burrow. Let's go to Hogsmeade. It's beautiful on Christmas night, remember? Diagon Alley is, too. But I figured…because the store's in Diagon Alley…I just thought you might not want to go."

She just looked at the fire for a moment longer before she nodded and turned to face him. "Hogsmeade sounds fine. I just need to get dressed."

He nodded and sat down to wait for her. She had the strangest urge to invite him upstairs with her, but she didn't. It must have been how much he looked like… him.

It didn't take her long to come back down the stairs. When she did, he was looking around the room at the pictures on the walls. Most of the ones she had sent back to her parents from school had the twins in them, and he seemed almost pleased about that.

"Are you ready to go?"

He turned, as if startled. "Um, yeah, alright."

She Disapparated, finding herself standing just outside Honeydukes, unsure why she was suddenly being so rude to George. He was only trying to help.

Although they hadn't agreed on where they were going, she soon heard him appear behind her.

"It's almost funny that I knew this was where you were gonna go," he said from behind her.

She shrugged. "It was the first place I thought of."

"Right. So, is there anywhere in particular you'd like to see? It's been awhile, and a few things are different now."

She shook her head. "Not really. Everywhere's closed right now, anyway."

"Yes, but it's still nice to look at."

She nodded and turned around to look at him.

"I don't know if this is too much to ask, but can we just not talk about the past tonight?" he asked. "Or, can we at least not talk about the battle? I don't know if you realized it, but the memories are difficult for me, too."

Again, she nodded. "I was just about to ask you the same thing."

"Good," he said, with a sigh of relief. "Just pretend we're back in our seventh year or something, just friends walking through Hogsmeade on Christmas Eve night, breaking as many rules as we can."

She smiled. "Only school rules, though, I'd rather not get in too much trouble."

He offered her his arm with a smile, and she took it gratefully. "Oh, wait," he said, as if he'd just remembered. "Seventh year wasn't any fun. Umbridge, remember?" he asked as they started walking.

"Well, what did that matter, to Fred and George Weasley? The two of you broke every rule she'd ever made, just to break it. Even if it wasn't something you particularly cared about."

"We did, I remember," he said, laughing a little. And then, suddenly, they both realized what had been said, and they fell to silence, wondering if they should mention it. They continued walking, passing shops covered in fairy lights and capped with snow, their doors closed for the holiday.

"I…guess though, that if we didn't want to deal with Umbridge, we could pretend it was our sixth year."

"Sixth year was fun. At least, until… Well, Christmas time was fun, anyway. But if it's sixth year, we'd be at the Yule ball right now," he said, smiling at a couple as they passed them. "Although, I think I can adjust this situation to make it work."

Before she had a chance to respond with a question, he grabbed her around the waist and spun her around. She didn't stop him as he danced her down the street, even as she started to get dizzy, from the spinning and her own laughter.

When he finally stopped spinning them, she was laughing harder that she had since…well since life as she'd known it had ended. He was laughing, too, and it was comforting as he pulled her down to sit next to him on a bench.

"See?" she said, as she turned to look at him, his cheeks pink from the cold and laughter. "You do know how to make me laugh."

He chuckled again and wrapped an arm around her. For some reason, it made her shiver.

"Oh, are you cold?" he asked. "Aberforth lets anyone who… well, we can go to the Hog's Head, if that's alright with you. At least it's warm."

She nodded, not letting his near slip-up get to her, and stood, taking his arm again. They walked along the road, headed back in the direction of the Hog's Head when she suddenly remembered the significance of that place. Still, she wasn't allowed to mention it, not tonight. She could handle it.

When George opened the door for her, she was just ready to sit down again. It seemed all the strength she had once had from Quidditch had left her during the months she'd spent sitting in her mother's house.

As she fell into a seat somewhere in the middle of the room, George flashed a smile at her and walked over to the counter, which he knocked on three times.

Aberforth was mumbling as he wandered into the room from somewhere in the back. "Oh, it's you," he said when he saw George. "Firewhiskey, then?"

George shook his head. "Two butterbeers, please."

Aberforth seemed to have just noticed that Angelina was in the room, and he nodded in her general direction as he knelt down and picked up a few bottles. "You'd better pay for it before you leave," he said. "I'm going to bed, so don't be loud, and don't stay for long."

"Alright. Thanks," George replied, picking up the bottles and two glasses.

"What was that about?" she asked quietly when he returned to her.

"Um, well, I suppose we all just have our own way of coping," he said, almost blushing. "Mine was to…attempt to drown myself in firewhiskey."

Angelina fell silent, hoping he would say more about how he was feeling. It was nice to talk to someone who didn't try to lie and tell her everything would be okay. When he didn't say more, she spoke again. "I haven't spoken to my two best friends since it happened. I mean, they talk to me, but I haven't said more than two words at a time to them in almost longer than I can remember."

He nodded. "They told me."

She sighed loudly. "Am I the only thing anyone talks about anymore?"

"No. But people worry about you, Angie," he said, sitting down and pouring butterbeer into the glasses. "And, I don't think most people knew how serious it was between the two of you, so it seems irrational for you to react like you did."

"Still, it doesn't make sense that everyone hasn't just left the whole situation alone."

He shrugged. "A lot of things don't make sense."

"Of course. If the world made sense, life would be too easy."

They both went silent as they drank their butterbeers. Angelina looked down at the table.

"Maybe we should have something a little stronger."

"Yeah, that sounds about right," George said, and he stood, heading back up to the counter. She watched him walk there and back, thinking that she'd never seen him like this before. And it wasn't grief she was seeing. It was something else. Something she had seen on a few occasions before, but she couldn't recall what it was.

She took the drink from him when he handed it to her, and again, they were both silent. Suddenly she sighed.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing, I just… George, how long has it been since you said his name?"

He looked confused. "Well, Mum makes the family say it sometimes. We're not allowed to let people who we're talking about. We have to make it clear."

"Oh."

George was looking at her curiously. "Why don't you like saying his name?"

She shook her head. "It's just painful for me, I suppose. It's not like I'm afraid to say it, I just…haven't."

He reached out and touched her hand, and suddenly, she started to cry.

"What? What's the matter? Did I do something wrong?" he asked, taking his hand away.

"No," she said, letting one little sob escape her throat. "I just… It's Christmas Eve. And I'd be spending it with him, with Fred, if…"

George looked crestfallen. "I know. I'm sorry," he said, taking her hand again gently.

She looked up at his eyes, which were so sad it hurt her to see them.

"George, I didn't mean… No, I'm glad I'm spending Christmas Eve with you."

"But you'd rather be spending it with him, I know, Angie. I know I'm probably never going to be what he was to you. But…"

"George," she said, holding on tighter to his hand. "I'm not crying because I'm sad. I'm crying because what you're doing, being so nice to me and all, it's just that much better because it's Christmas Eve. But, isn't that how it always is?"

He nodded. "Christmas has always just made everything seem okay. Fred always used to tell me that Christmas Eve was his favorite day because everyone's excited for Christmas, but instead of opening presents, you're opening up to each other."

"That sounds like Fred. Do you remember last Christmas?"

They talked about him all night, and Angelina was surprised when she woke up the next morning in a bed she didn't recognize. Or rather, a bed she did recognize, but that she had never spent a night alone in. She sat up and looked around, noting that it was much cleaner than the last time she'd seen it. It didn't seem right, but at the same time, it almost was.

She thought for a moment that she ought to go find George. Instead, she knelt down on the floor and started to pick things up, salvaging anything related to the store that wasn't already used or too covered in anything disgusting and throwing away all the other papers that were scattered across the floor. A few minutes in, she thought she heard Fred whistling in the doorway, thought she felt him kneel beside her and start to help, but she knew it was just her imagination.

About an hour after she'd started, she realized that she would have to deal with the more important things in his room now, things that might bring back memories she may not want to relive. But she'd started this. This was symbolic to her, and she was going to see it through to the end.

As she stood up to look around at how much she'd accomplished already, she realized she hadn't imagined the whistling after all. George was sitting right behind where she had been, rechecking the piles she'd sorted all the papers into. He seemed to approve, and when he realized that she was looking at him, he looked up at her.

"I went and got breakfast," he said quietly, "But when I came back upstairs, I thought maybe you had the right idea about all of this." This last part was said as he motioned around the room.

"Oh. Well, I would say we should take a break, but by the time we come back, I may have changed my mind."

"I know," he said, "Me, too. Let's just get it over with."

And so, they dove back in, pointing out to each other some of the strange objects he kept in his room, putting things away as if he would be coming back in a day or two. They smiled at each other a lot, glad to finally be able to talk to someone who understood. And when they were finished, they stood and looked at their work.

"It… seems wrong somehow," she said.

"Yeah," he said. "It was only ever this clean if he'd been away for a while and Mum had been here."

Angelina nodded. "Yes. Well, he has been away for a while, hasn't he?"

"I've just realized something."

"What?" she asked, surprised at the sudden change of subject.

"It's his favorite holiday."

She looked up at him, confusion in her eyes. "So?"

"So," he said, "We've got to uphold tradition, haven't we? Or don't you remember last year?" He was smirking almost evilly.

"Well, a lot of things happened last year. You'll have to refresh my memory."

And that's how they found themselves in the kitchen, baking cookies. George, however, seemed to be very out of practice.

"Wait, don't mix that yet, you've got eggshells in there still!" Angelina yelled from the other side of the kitchen, smiling from ear to ear.

"That just makes them crunchier," he said, smirking as he tried to locate said eggshells in his cookie dough.

"No one wants a crunchy cookie," she said, moving to stand beside him and pull out what she had thought were obvious pieces of eggshell. When she turned to throw them away, she found herself caught between the counter and George. He was staring at her so intensely that she had to wonder if he could see into her soul. "What?" She asked, after they'd been standing there for almost a minute.

"Nothing, you've just got a little something on your face."

She reached up to wipe it away, but before she could, George said, "Right there," and touched her cheek.

She gasped as his fingers left something cold on her face. "George Weasley, you did not just put cookie dough on me."

He stepped away from her, wiping his hand on the leg of his jeans. "If you say I didn't do it, then I must not have done it, and if I didn't do it, I can't be punished for it."

"Oh, really?" she said, turning around and picking up the bowl of cookie dough he'd been mixing, although it was now free of eggshells. When she turned back to face him, he had his hands up in surrender, but she wouldn't have any of that.

Holding the bowl with one hand, she scooped up some of the cookie dough with the other and threw it at him. He tried to move to avoid it, but it still managed to hit his ear and splatter into his hair.

With a squeal, she realized that he was running towards her own batch of cookie dough. There would be no escape from this, so she ran towards him and dumped everything from the bowl she was holding onto his head. Their wands lay forgotten on the kitchen counter as he turned slowly to face her, cookie dough falling in clumps from the bowl that was still sitting on his head.

"You," he said menacingly, peeling the bowl off of the top of his head, "are going to pay for that."

"Oh, really?" she asked, backing up, not quite realizing until it was too late that she would hit the wall soon and have nowhere to go from there.

George was coming at her with a dangerous look in his eye, eggs and sugar and butter dripping slowly from his hair and his nose. She couldn't stop laughing, even as he forced her closer to the wall and poured cookie dough onto the top of her head painstakingly slowly. She tried to fight him off, but he was much stronger than her, and he caught both of her hands in one of his.

When they were both dripping with cookie dough, he finally let her go, but he didn't step away.

"That may have been the most childish thing I've ever seen you do," George said.

"You started it," Angelina replied, smiling.

"I'm glad you're smiling again," George said.

"Well, I finally have a reason to again."

"And what reason is that?"

She shrugged. "It's Christmas," she said. "Everything's better at Christmas."

George smiled, and she suddenly realized exactly how much she and George had spent together now, and how easy it was to be with him. He didn't remind her of Fred at all. And then, he leaned down and kissed her lightly, as if he was afraid she would push him away. When he pulled away from her, she smiled at him, and he smiled gratefully in return.

"You know, maybe we should go see your family today. When we finish making cookies, of course."

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**A/N: Okay, I'm sorry, I had to fluffify the ending. You know me, it's almost neccessary for me. Also, I'd like to send out a special thanks to my boyfriend, who gave me the idea for this story. No, we did not dump cookie dough on each other, but we came pretty close.**

**Anyway, please R&R, even if you think it's bad. Have a merry After-Christmas-But-Before-New-Year's!**


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